To Feel Between the Lines
by KiaForrest
Summary: Doctor Nine: S1 spoilers. Introspection, not angst, but not jolly either. Implied DoctorRose thoughts. He saw her first she’d see him last.


Author's Notes:

DoctorNine introspection, not angst, but not jolly either.  
No Warning: General, work safe – under a 1000, barely  
Spoilers: Season1 allusions  
Disclaimer: BBC owns what I love. However, I have a pile of laundry that is never ending – go ahead, sue me, I'll throw in the soap & softener.

He saw her first; she'd see him last.

To Feel Between the Lines

The first time he saw her; Rose thought she was about to die. That's not what he noticed, though. What startled him was how quickly her mind filled in the blanks, and asked the next question. Telling her to run, he saw her flash of concern, becoming hesitancy. It's why he teased her about beans and toast, why he had to know her name.

_Rose. Thorns and petals, contrary to grow, beautiful in bloom, with fragrance beyond withering._ She should have been Ethel, no, some pretentious four-syllable terror to spell. But even with a plastic arm in her hand and questions in her eyes, the name suited her.

The second time he saw her, glaring through the pet door, he was disappointed. So suspicious! But, when Rose opened the door, he understood why strays would tear out nails to get in. Didn't surprise him when she began giving instructions, telling him what she expected before the coffee was poured. The woman in pink hadn't expected anything for a long time, left that to Rose.

Deactivated the connection, saved her life, twice! Still smacked him with the arm, she did. Made him smile, more than twice. He was still able to dismiss her, another adult before her time. Until she chased after him, right on his heels, firing questions. Good questions twined with laughter that climbed his spine without scratching. He'd intended to send her back with scathing mockery. Opened his mouth.

Sarcasm mutated. She _was_ listening, watching him as he was accustomed to doing, not receiving. Rose wanted to know, but also to understand, to feel between the lines. More, deeper, was a reflex to help. Spotting that inclination, he should have stuffed her in a bin, for her own safety. But he didn't. He observed. Beneath the surface of her hunger was an impulse that extinguished sensible fear. Not only could she believe the fantastic, she had courage enough to nurture, to play with fire and tame it with gentle laughter. Rose Tyler spent most of her days restraining a rare gift. He was sorry to see that.

Quite rightly, shaking off his poetic fancies, he sent her home, using words as conflicted as the steady rhythm of her pulse. It should have been pounding, her heart. She'd been attacked, chased him and received answers determined to scare her to safety. Should have flinched from the cold grasp of his hand, but she didn't, just tilted her head and considered the feel of the world. He didn't look back, didn't dare. But he felt her gaze on him, even when he knew the TARDIS had carried him away.

Finding her across from the dummy was amusing. Smacking the alarm and herding others to safety was delightful. She was quick on her feet, even when her boyfriend was suddenly a headless Gumby of doom. Shouting orders at terrified people, and him, as if they were all the same. He may have found her expecting to die, but she wasn't going to make it easy. Took the TARDIS and alien Doctor in her stride. Blubbered over a melting head, had the audacity to chastise him! Irritating was the mildest word he could think of applying to her, with the part of his brain not working on the Nestene Consciousness. He tried not to look at her, to remain focused, but he caught a glimpse of glorious out of the corner of his eye.

Yes, yes, he was contemptuous — not jealous — of Rose's focus on one person when the entire world was in danger. Turned a hard glare on her, tried to dismiss her concern as more of that reflex of nature, something she couldn't help, until she turned to him. Swinging across the gap, she was a difference that could, and would be made. Even a Time Lord could misread courage as reflex, willingness as nature of the beast. He couldn't not _see_. For the first time in too long, he wasn't cold. Her cheeky grin warmed him.

He wasn't sorry to have divided his offer in two parts. Rose deserved _time_ to think, _time_ to feel the weight of an idiotic existence, and _time_ to remember the rhythm of her world before deciding the tempo of the universe was what she wanted. Wouldn't apologize for enticing her with choices. She was choking in the weeds of domestic. He hadn't promised anything, Rose had seen to that. Swinging between him and promises he couldn't give. But still….

"_This is Emergency Program One."_ He didn't hesitate over words, didn't fret over how to gain cooperation, like that would happen. Knew exactly what to say, even as he regretted the betrayal she'd feel. The command to let the TARDIS die was purposeful, distraction more than truth. A shot about fussing and moaning would energize her with enough irritation to carry her home. His final request was a selfish plea for mercy, but he wouldn't erase it. Eventually, her hurt and anger would fade; she must not doubt what he expected for her, of her.

He knew too damn well, how to let go. Sometimes, he was even certain feet would be found on stable ground, a life would be built, contentment known, in time. But Rose? She'd never again be content bound to her world, not now, but he wasn't sorry for that, not really. If there were anything to truly regret, it was that she _would_ see. His yearning to deftly swing between Rose and promises he could neither make, nor keep. It haunted him already.

"_Have a good life. Do that for me, Rose. Have a fantastic life."_


End file.
